


Christmas Magic

by waywardriot



Series: Vanven Week 2019 [5]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, VanVen Week (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardriot/pseuds/waywardriot
Summary: Vanitas hates the holidays, yet he still finds himself drawn to the Christmas tree for some reason; to Ventus, he's drawn even more so. Next to him, suddenly the tree isn't really as pretty as he'd thought—not when Ventus's face, as always, shines brighter than anything in the room.Vanven Week Day 5: Warmth
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Vanven Week 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576738
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	Christmas Magic

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of a loose use of the prompt once again, but i just wanted to do something soft for christmas! these boys deserve it

As Vanitas walks through the halls, the only sound the gentle padding of his socked feet, he breathes in the cold air that has crept its way through the walls. Like he often aimlessly wanders the castle, he isn’t sure where he’s going right now, until he’s pulled to the castle’s main den, where everything awaits the coming hecticness of the day.

The room contains pretty much every holiday cliché that makes Vanitas roll his eyes; the decorations are excessive and obnoxious, and after having looked at them every day for the last month, he’s more than tired of them. _‘Thank god that Christmas is almost over,’_ he thinks to himself, pulling the blanket that’s draped over his shoulders tighter around him.

His feet carry him over to the most eye-catching thing in the room—the obnoxiously tall Christmas tree, painstakingly decorated and adorned with all sorts of mismatched baubles. It almost feels representative of their little ‘family’, all mixed up and haphazard thanks to the things that broke them apart and pulled them together.

Right now, an abundance of gifts sits beneath the tree, and more will be scattered beneath it soon enough when all their far-too-many guests come over and join them for the holiday. Vanitas somewhat dreads how loud and boisterous it’s going to be within the next few hours, so he soaks in these last quiet moments.

Within a few minutes, another pair of footsteps shuffle their way up to Vanitas; they’re so quiet that Vanitas would almost not notice them if not for the fact that he would recognize those footsteps anywhere he went. The feeling of the other half of his heart coming closer also fills him with a gentle warmth, some from his own heart and some from Ventus’s heart, full of an almost tangible love for Vanitas.

“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” Ventus whispers, taking his place at Vanitas’s side and staring up at the tree as well.

Vanitas is naturally inclined to disagree because he likes annoying Ventus, but there’s not much room to when he’s staring at the tree at a godforsaken hour of the morning. It’s obvious what he thinks about it.

“It’s alright.”

Ventus snorts and elbows him good-naturedly. Vanitas glances over to him, and suddenly the tree isn’t really as pretty as he’d thought. Ventus’s face, like always, shines brighter than anything in the room; the lights reflecting off the tinsel and ornaments gently glinting have nothing on him, his appearance sort of angelic with his halo of bedhead and soft, hopeful eyes.

If he looks at Ventus for any longer, Vanitas is pretty sure he’ll start blushing and make an absolute fool of himself, so he looks back to the tree and then reaches out for it. A specific ornament calls out to him, and he takes it in his hand while it still dangles from a branch, holding it far more carefully than he does anything but Ventus.

This ornament is relatively simple as far as they go: a red glass star, reminiscent of a Wayfinder, with loopy calligraphy on the back that reads ‘Vanitas’. Ventus, Terra, and Aqua all have ones that match, and this token of belonging means so much to Vanitas.

When he was presented it as an early Christmas present as they were first decorating the tree, he may or may not have teared up, but no one needs to know that.

“I’m glad you like it,” Ventus says quietly when he notices which ornament Vanitas is holding. “I know it’s not a lot, but…”

“But it’s mine,” Vanitas interrupts before Ventus can get down on himself for not doing more or whatever irrelevant stuff he worries about.

Ventus gives him a soft smile and moves closer to him, leaning into his side and stealing half of his blanket to wrap it around his shoulders as well. “Yup. It’s yours.”

Vanitas doesn’t dare talk about it because he hates sounding sentimental, but having his own things is still deeply important to him; for a large chunk of his life, he owned nothing except for his Keyblade and his mask, which paled in comparison to everything Ventus had worlds away from him in the Land of Departure. Now he has more than enough of his own stuff—enough that he wonders if it’s going to get taken away eventually. 

“Will the ornament get put away with everything else when Christmas is over?” he asks, turning the ornament over and over in his hand.

“You can keep it out if you want,” Ventus says, somehow knowing what Vanitas meant by asking that question. “Maybe hang it up in your room or something? On the wall?”

“Maybe off one of my bedposts,” Vanitas hums, mostly to himself. 

“That’d be nice,” Ventus agrees. 

Pulling away from Ventus after a moment of thought, Vanitas crouches down and nudges at some of the presents, pushing them out of the way. There are so many more things than he would’ve ever anticipated, despite having spent pretty much the last three months listening to people chattering about Christmas shopping; it’s just that he’s not used to this much… _stuff._

Now, as he looks over all the presents under the tree, he has this weird sinking-rising feeling in his stomach. It’s definitely overwhelming, and he feels both grateful and guilty for what he has now.

“You okay?” Ventus murmurs as he crouches down beside him. Wrapping the blanket back around Vanitas’s shoulders, he does the same and brushes his fingers over a label on one of the presents. “Look. This one’s for you—from Aqua.”

“Yeah… And this one.”

“From Terra,” Ventus says warmly, and then he picks up another small one. “And from me.”

Vanitas is silent for a little, slowly trying to control his breathing as he continues to run his hand over all the various types of wrapping paper. When he finds another gift for him—and another, and then another, and assuredly more when everyone else arrives later that day—he sniffles a little and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “None of you had to do this.”

“Well, yeah. But we all _wanted_ to. That’s the spirit of the holidays.”

Vanitas runs a hand through his hair and sighs, again frustrated and confused by all the things that come so naturally to everyone they know. “I know. You guys keep saying that—but I still don’t get it.”

“We love you, Van. All of us do,” Ventus insists, bumping Vanitas with his shoulder, “Me, Terra, Aqua, Sora, Roxas, Xion, Namine, Riku—well, okay, I can’t name every single one of our friends. But they all love you! Of course we want to show that we care for you.”

“They can show they care without gifts. _You_ do that very well,” Vanitas replies with the express intent of riling Ventus up.

Ventus makes an offended noise and shoves Vanitas away, who just laughs. “You—!” he sputters, pointing a finger at him. “Asshole. I’m the only one allowed to kiss you and stuff. They have to show it in different ways.”

Satisfied that he got the reaction he wanted, Vanitas grins smugly and leans back into Ventus, pushing his weight onto him to try to get him off balance. “Duh. My point still stands, though.” He shrugs and ignores Ventus trying to shoulder him off of him. “They don’t have to get me gifts for me to know they care.”

“Do you, though?” Ventus is met with a very telling silence, and he sighs, aggrieved. “It’s just tradition, Van. We’d all feel bad if everyone got each other gifts and we didn’t get you any.”

“I’d feel fine.”

“Come _on._ It’s not gonna kill you to receive gifts. Put on a pretty face and say ‘thank you’ to everyone,” Ventus sighs, now exasperated by the argument that they both know Vanitas will never let up on.

“I’ll have you know my face is always pretty,” Vanitas retorts with a smirk. Then, growing serious again, he looks back to the gifts and nudges them all back underneath the tree into their rightful places (lest he get accused of snooping by Aqua). There’s really nothing he can do about it now because everyone would definitely notice if he chucked their gifts to him in the fire—and he isn’t that mean anymore, although he would’ve seriously thought about it not that long ago. “Fine. I’ll play your stupid game.”

That’s the most agreement he’ll give Ventus, and luckily Ventus argues it no further and takes what he can get. “Thank you. I promise that today will be good,” he says softly, a fond look on his face.

“I’m holding you to that. If it sucks, it’s your fault,” Vanitas replies dryly, _probably_ joking but also possibly not.

The fond look on Ventus’s face turns back into exasperation, and he lightly smacks Vanitas on the thigh before standing up again and offering him his hands. 

Once Vanitas takes his hands and is hefted up as well, Ventus tucks himself back against his side and Vanitas leans his head against his as they resume looking at the tree, just soaking in the moment and the warmth in his heart more than anything else.

Despite his obviously reluctant agreement, Vanitas _does_ feel a little better about having to accept presents. He’d still rather not, but if it makes Ventus happy, he will. The others are his friends (although he rarely uses the actual word), but he mostly just cares about Ventus and what Christmas will be like for him since he enjoys the holiday so much. As much as he complains, Vanitas will probably find the day a success if Ventus ends up having a good one.

“Hey. I’m cold. Sit in front of the fire with me?” Ventus asks, a hint of a pout on his lips because he obviously knows that usually sways Vanitas—what a brat. 

After sharply elbowing Ventus—met by a tiny whine of ‘ _ow, Vanitas!_ ’—Vanitas rolls his eyes like being asked to do so is a chore and says, “Fine.”

Ventus’s grin immediately gets even brighter than before when Vanitas says that, and he kisses him on the cheek before pulling away and going over to the fireplace. As he lights it with a quick spell and stokes it, Vanitas goes behind the couch in the room to push it a little closer to the fire, aiming for maximum warmth

“I’m gonna get a couple more blankets because it’s too cold,” Ventus says before he runs off, presumably to one of the many hall closets stacked with blankets by Aqua before winter hit.

While he waits for him to return, Vanitas takes a seat on the couch and stares into the steadily crackling fire, feeling the warmth soothe some of the perpetual cold that’s rooted deep inside him. Soon enough he hears Ventus’s footsteps tapping along the floor, and then a pile of blankets are dumped onto his head.

“Hey, asshole!” Vanitas snaps once he’s freed himself from the mess of blankets, but it’s obviously not intimidating enough because Ventus simply giggles and plants a kiss on top of his head before jumping over the back of the couch and settling down next to him.

“Get over it, you big baby,” he laughs, helping to detangle the blankets and spread them, two on their laps and one large blanket around their shoulders. “There. Cozy.”

Silently, Vanitas lifts up his arm beneath the blanket, an obvious invitation for Ventus to snuggle up close to him. Ventus gives him a soft smile beneath tucking himself into Vanitas’s side, resting his head on his shoulder once Vanitas has set his arm around his shoulders. “Love you,” Ventus softly croons. 

Of course, Vanitas’s cheeks immediately turn red, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Ventus. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbles.

Vanitas has never been good at expressing affection verbally along with taking a long time to warm up to physical affection, and that’s something that has worried him quite a lot; does he deserve Ventus if he can’t give Ventus the love he should get?

Luckily, it seems that thus far, Ventus is patient enough to deal with this and has never once faulted Vanitas for very rarely saying ‘I love you’. He waited so long for Vanitas to learn what romance is, for him to be able to accept Ventus’s love, and for him to realize that he’s in love with Ventus.

Still, despite the reassurance, Vanitas privately wonders if that patience will ever run out; without Ventus’s love and warmth at his side, he doesn’t know what he would do.

“I know you know. Just reminding you,” Ventus chirps, pressing a lingering kiss to Vanitas’s cheek.

Vanitas just grumbles in response because he’s an ornery bastard and has to do so. Shifting to get more comfortable, he lazily runs his fingers through Ventus’s hair and stares into the fire, flickering consistent and warm thanks to the touch of magic.

Comfortable and cozy with Ventus there, Vanitas nearly drifts back off to sleep until Ventus speaks up again. “So, are you excited for today?”

Is he? That’s quite a question, and Vanitas ponders it briefly. “I guess. I mean, I’m not all excited for presents like kids get,” he says, pointedly elbowing Ventus, “but it’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Of course, as the largest home, the Land of Departure is hosting Christmas once again, and pretty much all their friends will be coming. With the worlds not completely healed from war and various threats remaining scattered among them, everyone within their friend group isn’t able to see each other as often as they might once have. Getting them all together at a time has become a once- or twice-a-year thing, and while Vanitas doesn’t do the best surrounded by so many people for a prolonged period of time, he’s still looking forward to seeing them.

What a strange change from before; Vanitas is no longer that sad, angry, scared little boy with no one in the world but a cruel master, and has learned how to accept people into his heart—albeit begrudgingly.

“Didja get me anything?” Ventus excitedly asks, thus proving Vanitas’s earlier point about children’s excitement. 

Rolling his eyes, Vanitas tugs at Ventus’s hair a little and doesn’t reply immediately; he waits a good few moments where he can feel Ventus getting frustrated, and then he answers, “Just wait until later today like everyone else, Ventus.”

Ventus groans and smacks Vanitas’s thigh lightly, pouting. “You’re an asshole.”

“What, just now figuring it out?” Vanitas snickers, simply enjoying Ventus’s reactions—he just makes it too easy for Vanitas to rile him up. 

Instead of responding and being further antagonized—smart decision—Ventus grumbles to himself and shifts in place, trying to sit in Vanitas’s lap. 

“Hang on. Move,” Vanitas orders, shifting Ventus back off him. That makes Ventus whine, but if they’re going to be staying there for a while, Vanitas figures that they might as well get comfortable.

He reaches over to the end of the couch to grab some pillows, and then he arranges them and then lays down along the length of the couch. “Here. Now come on.”

Ventus’s eyes soften in that way that makes Vanitas feel like he’s melting, and he shuffles over on his knees and then lays down on top of Vanitas. They take a few moments to adjust in the best position and to pull the blankets back on top of them, and then they settle down with Vanitas’s arms looped around Ventus’s waist and with Ventus’s head resting on his chest. This is one of their favorite ways to snuggle together, touching in every way they can and feeling wonderfully cozy.

“Why are you so comfy?” Ventus whines, although it’s obviously not a complaint. Carefully, he repositions himself until his ear is over Vanitas’s heart, and then he nuzzles his cheek against him.

“I’m pretty sure you’re crazy for thinking I’m comfortable,” Vanitas scoffs. Almost instinctively, one of his hands finds its way up to Ventus’s hair and gently combs through the strands; that’s become something of a habit for him, twisting the blond curls around his fingers over and over. It’s soothing, and it also reassures him that Ventus is right there—that he’s not going to lose him.

“Maybe I am,” Ventus hums before he turns his eyes towards the fireplace, just watching the fire burn and crackle. “I can’t help it. I’m just so relaxed around you.”

“Stupid decision.”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me, so there’s nothing to be scared of.” As if to disprove him, Vanitas yanks at his hair sharply enough that he knows it’ll sting, which makes Ventus glare at him. “Okay, you’re not going to _legitimately_ hurt me. Just be annoying.”

Vanitas snorts and nods. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he agrees. What is a relationship (if one would call what they were one) if not an agreement to mutually annoy each other for as long as possible?

With a pleased hum, Ventus resituates himself a little, moving up until he can give Vanitas a soft kiss, one filled with the kind of gentle warmth that makes Vanitas melt. What did he do to deserve such a wholesome thing, he wonders as he kisses back with equal tenderness.

Once they start kissing it’s often hard for them to stop, especially in these gentle moments; slow, lazy kisses continue for some minutes until they trail off into tiredness, their foreheads pressed together and warmth curling through Vanitas’s chest.

It perpetually feels as if cold has settled deep in his heart, too deep to do anything about, but Ventus remedies that like nothing else ever could. When Ventus shifts so that their chests are pressed against each other, their hearts beating against each other, Vanitas sighs softly and squeezes Ventus tightly. This is what brings him the most warmth, having their hearts in such close proximity that everything feels like it lines up and slots into place as it should have done long ago.

“Wanna just fall asleep here until people wake up,” Ventus mumbles, tucking his face against Vanitas’s neck.

Vanitas hums in return and directs his eyes to the fire, softly crackling and making everything feel cozier and harder to get away from, like some sort of siren’s call. He knows that staying here leaves the risk of getting caught in a tender moment—which their friends will inevitably take lots of pictures of and embarrass them over—but at this moment, that pales in comparison to the comfort he’s feeling.

“Okay.” Tugging the blankets up a little further, Vanitas sighs and tilts his face into Ventus’s hair, breathing in his scent and everything that’s so distinctly _Ventus_. After a few more moments of hesitation, he whispers into Ventus’s curls, “I love you.”

The love bursting in Ventus’s chest makes its way over to Vanitas, choking him up with emotion, and Ventus replies, “I love you too, Van.”

Ventus, the sleepyhead he is, drifts off to sleep in no time, leaving Vanitas alone with his thoughts and the warmth in the room. Of course, his thoughts don’t last long before he drifts off as well with one last thought going through his head.

_Maybe_ this _is what they mean by Christmas magic._


End file.
